


Vegas, Baby!

by sunbitten



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Mirror Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Season/Series 13, Season/Series 14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-07-29 09:57:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16261847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunbitten/pseuds/sunbitten
Summary: “I mean Vegas, Sammy! It’s about time for our annual Vegas trip, and I’m thinking instead of the usual gambling, strippers, and the odd magic show I indulge you with, we just shack up in a motel and get a lot down and dirty,” Dean says, vulgarly humping the air.





	1. Chapter 1

Dean’s not used to living with this many people. It’s always just been him and Sam. Sometimes there’s a few others, but never this many and never for this long.

The twenty-five people they’ve brought back from Apocalypse World are really starting to crowd the bunker. They’ve been here for months, and he knows there’s nowhere else they can really go, but they’re driving him crazy. They pilfer all of his bacon, jack his good whiskey, leave monster hairballs in the shower that make Sam’s look like a joke, infiltrate the Dean-cave, and is alternate Bobby macking on his mom?

But worst of all, they’re cockblocking him.

Anytime he and Sam decide to spend some alone time together, someone desperately needs Sam’s attention or has to ask Dean a pressing question. Whenever they try to find a room to do the deed in, there’s always somebody in it, even if it’s _their_ bedrooms. It’s like they have some sixth sense to when he and Sam are gonna get freaky.

The few times they manage to start a little something, footsteps would suddenly echo in the hallway and they’d be too afraid they’d get caught to continue. Sam finally gives up after a while and tells him he’s not having sex with him as long as there’s another person in the bunker. Dean swears Sam’s declaration is some sort of irreversible blue balls curse.

And as if Sam freezing him out isn’t bad enough, he isn’t even able to have a satisfying ‘solitary moment’ to himself. It’s a little hard to jerk it when there’s always someone milling about in the background. Shower? Toilet? His bedroom? Someone’s always in the next stall or knocking on door asking him to buy cereal on his next supply run—even at three in the morning! Sure he’s cleaning the pipes, but it’s just routine, perfunctory cleaning that ends up leaving him feeling more frustrated than satisfied.

Coming off another disappointing session, he rolls over to his nightstand when his phone pings. There’s a notification for an event on the calendar app.

Calendar? Dean hardly uses that one, mainly just to check the date. He tries to remember what he could’ve scheduled. Birthday? Rotate Baby’s tires? New season of _Dr. Sexy, M.D._? Nah, he has all those things memorized. Wiping his sullied hand on his shirt, he swipes at the notification with his clean one.

 _Vegas Week_  

In all the chaos of last year, Dean had forgotten he had scheduled this.

Vegas Week is always great. It gives him and Sam an opportunity to really bond and enjoy themselves away from all the troubles and headaches that always seems to find them. He smiles remembering how last year Sam had gotten so drunk he passed out on a slot machine and practically stayed hungover the rest of the week.

And then it hits him. A whole week of him and Sam together. A whole week. Alone. Just the two of them. He and Sam can finally have sex. Hell, they can have sex for the whole week without any interruptions.

Suddenly, the idea sounds really good. A whole week of sex. Scratch that, it’s perfect. A week-long sex marathon in Vegas. Just the idea makes him giddy and already has him mentally packing—extra lube, extra condoms.

Now, just to convince Sam.

* * *

“Nothing but sex for a whole week? Sounds nice, but who’re you having sex with? Cause it sure ain’t me.”

They’re having a hushed conversation as they wash Baby. In his excitement, Dean leads with week-long sex marathon and forgets to mention Vegas.

“I mean Vegas, Sammy! It’s about time for our annual Vegas trip, and I’m thinking instead of the usual gambling, strippers, and the odd magic show I indulge you with, we just shack up in a motel and get a lot down and dirty,” Dean says, vulgarly humping the air.

Sam drops the sponge on the windshield and begins scrubbing. “Why do we need to go all the way to Vegas? Why can’t we just get a room in the next town over?”

Dean balks. “Because it’s Vegas Week man,” Dean says as if that explains everything. “Look, if I don’t get to eat my fill of a Vegas buffet at least once a year, what do I have to live for?”

Sam’s bitch face appears. A few moments pass with nothing but the sounds of water splashing and sponges squeaking against metal.

“I don’t know, Dean. Do you really think we should leave everyone here?” Sam says apprehensively.

“It’s only one week, dude. I think we’ve earned ourselves a little vacay. Plus, they can take care of themselves, and if not, Mom, Cas, and Jack will be here.”

Sam still looks unsure. “Yeah, but I’m still not sure that means we should leave them.”

“Come on, Sam,” Dean whines. “I don’t know how to be a monk like you. I need to have sex. And soon. If not, I’ll explode.”

Sam avoids his eyes, looking deep in thought.

After making sure no one’s around, Dean marches over to Sam’s side, puts his hands on Sam’s hips, and leans up to whisper in his ear. “Come on Sammy, don’t you miss my hands on you? I miss your hands on me. I miss these pecs, I miss these nipples, I miss this sensitive spot on your hip, I miss this beautiful dick.” His hand lightly ghosts over each in concurrence with his words. “I miss this hole.” He ends with a light grind against Sam’s hip.

Sam gently pushes Dean away, smile accompanying the blush blooming on his face. “Ok, ok, we’ll go.”

Sam’s semi-bashful look is soon replaced by a devious smirk. “But if and only if instead of a hotel, we go camping.”

Dean steps back confused, excitement from Sam’s ok dampening. He doesn’t mind camping, but if he’s going on vacation, shouldn’t he spend it in at least a modicum of luxury?

Despite the whole Becky fiasco, Sam had raved about his time camping in the desert. Loved being one with nature and all that hippie crap. He’s always talking about how he’d like to go back and take Dean with him.

Sam must sense his reluctance because he crowds into Dean’s space and whispers in his ear lowly, seductively, “You can fuck me in the tent, you can fuck me outside under the stars, you can fuck me against a tree.”

God, Dean wants that. Wants Sam any way, every way, anywhere, everywhere. Dean bites his lip, trying to hold back a moan as he imagines their silhouettes on a shaking tent moving frantically against each other and Sam’s addictive noises seeping out into the open air.

Dean nods vigorously. “Alright, we’ll go camping.”

* * *

With their bags stowed, Dean closes Baby’s trunk, no longer eclipsing the sight of Jack sitting on an upturned bucket. There’s a pout on his face like he and Sam purposefully kicked his puppy.

“Come on, kid. Don’t look at me like that.”

“You sure I can’t come too?” Jack asks, giving him puppy dog eyes. It’s almost a dead ringer for Sam’s. A shudder runs through him when he realizes that Sam’s probably teaching him and they’re gonna start conspiring against him soon.

“Sorry, this trips for big boys only.”

“But I’m a big boy too. And so is Cas, and your not taking him either.”

Dean sighs. He’s pretty sure he’s told Jack no a million times already. Kid just won’t listen to reason, so maybe a little white lie will finally get him to stop asking.

“You see, the real reason we’re going is because Sam has this rare rash on his ass that he needs to get treated once a year by a specialist that lives in Vegas.”

“Oh. Well, that sounds painful. Maybe I can come and cheer him up while he gets treated.”

Dean smiles, not able to believe he used to distrust such a sweet, gullible kid. “No, sorry. It’s a little too embarrassing for him, so I think he’d appreciate it if you stayed here. And trust me, you don’t want to see Sam getting rash cream rubbed on his ass for a whole week.”

He’s not totally lying; it’s true that he’ll be rubbing on Sam’s ass sometime this week, maybe even something cream-like.

“And remember if you need to power down the warding, you have to push the red button first.” Sam walks into the garage with Mary and Cas in tow. “And if you need anything, and I mean anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Don’t worry, we can take care of ourselves,” Mary says with a laugh. “You boys just go and have fun.”

Jack gets up from his perch and walks right over to the three of them. “Sam, Dean said I can’t come because you’re too embarrassed about your butt rash. Is that true?”

“Butt rash?” The other gullible party in the room, Cas, pipes up, and Dean can’t help the snort that escapes. “I can help with that.” Cas’ fingers are already on track to Sam’s forehead.

Sam gives Dean a look that translates as _really?_ as he ducks Cas’ hand. “No, Jack—Cas. Dean’s just trying to trick you.”

Jack brightens up. “So, I can come.”

Sam and Dean trade glances. “Um, no. Sorry. It’s just that this is a tradition between Dean and me, and after the year we’ve just had, we could really use the time together. Just the two of us.”

There’s sincerity in his words, and it has Dean coming up to Sam’s side to brush their hands against each other covertly but affectionately.

“Tell you what, next year. We’ll make it a whole family outing,” Dean says while gesturing to the little circle they’ve formed.

Sam gives him a small smile before returning his attention to Jack. “I’ll make sure to get you a souvenir.”

That seems to quell Jack, and if not, Mary cajoles, “Come on, we’ll have a week of our own. I think the three of us have a marathon-worth of movies to catch up on.”

They say their goodbyes and pile into Baby. They’re not even five miles out from the bunker when Dean starts to harden in his pants in anticipation for the upcoming week. He and Sam could probably pull over and get a head start, but he doesn’t mind driving all the way to Vegas with his pants a little tighter than usual because he knows it’s all gonna be worth it.

* * *

They reach Vegas early the next evening and check into Blackjack Betty’s Motel. It’s the perfect intermediary between the Strip and their campsite. Since neither of them are interested in setting up camp in the dark, and Dean still needs to get in his trip to the buffet, the motel will be their oasis in the desert for the night.

Dean unlocks the door and steps in. “Woah,” he says in surprise. The room that greets him has a wall of mirrors opposite the bed.

Sam regards the wall of mirrors with a quirked brow. “Did you plan this?”

Dean honestly didn’t, but he’s really wishing he did.

Sam walks over to the mirrors and lifts a hand up to his reflection. Dean locks eyes with the Sam in the mirror, and a shiver runs down his spine when the reflection smirks at him.

Sam turns around and stalks towards him, hands working at the buttons on the top of his shirt and kicking off his shoes, smirk still in place. “Come on, Dean. Let’s get started.”

And just like that, Dean is hauling Sam onto the bed.

He drops on top of Sam and wastes no time in attaching their lips. It’s hot and heavy from the start. Pent-up energy causing teeth to bite, lips to bruise, tongues to wrestle. Sam’s licking the roof of his mouth and pulling him impossibly close, and it feels _so_ good to have everywhere he touches and everywhere he’s touched be Sam again.

His hands begin to finish the buttons Sam started on. Each little button tries his patience and it takes all his restraint, restraint he thought had already vacated his body, not to rip it right off. As soon as the last one’s undone, he pushes the plaid open, and grabs at the hem of Sam’s undershirt.

It almost physically pains Dean to break their kiss, but when he pulls back and is finally reunited with the sight of Sam’s bare torso, it’s completely worth it. He dives down and lays kisses at the tip of Sam’s upturned chin all the way to the skin before the button of his jeans.

A sharp turn to the right and his tongue finds itself at that spot on Sam’s hip that always seems to punch the air out of Sam’s lungs when touched. He laves at it, and Sam’s fingers are coming down to run through his hair in an erratic rhythm. Licking turns into nibbling, and the answering gasp causes Dean’s hands to start work on Sam’s jeans.

Button undone and zipper down, Dean tugs at Sam’s pants only to find it won’t budge. “Lift up,” he mumbles against Sam’s skin before returning to suckle at the spot. Sam’s trembling, but he manages to get his hips off the bed enough for Dean to swiftly pull off his jeans and underwear.

Naked Sam is miles of beautiful skin begging to be touched, so Dean drapes his body over Sam’s once more, trying to create as much contact as possible, and leans down for a bruising kiss. The warmth of Sam’s skin is radiating through the layers of his clothes, warmest where Sam’s erection is pressed into his thigh, and it feels like he’s gonna overheat.

Sam’s biting at his lips, grinding against his thigh, and rucking up the back of his Henley. Dean gets the hint and pulls away to reach a hand back and drag the shirt over his head. He tries to resume their kiss, but Sam’s head is tilted down.

“You too,” Sam pants, looking back up while his hands continue to scrabble at the waist of Dean’s jeans.

Extracting himself from Sam’s warmth, Dean stands to rid himself of the rest the of his clothes. He’s just about to get back on the bed when he’s struck by the way Sam looks.

Sam’s all laid out and bare for him. Arousal painting his features into such a debauched expression, and flush tinting him in an irresistible glow. His legs are spread just enough in the way that showcases he subconsciously knows he’s about to be fucked real well, and his cock is straining upwards through wisps of hair, dark red and beads of precum at the tip.  

As much as Dean’s longing to bury himself in Sam, he wants to watch a little longer—it’s like his own personalized porn. He drags his eyes across Sam’s body, pinpointing exactly what he wants to see.

”Play with your nipples a bit, Sammy.”

Sam draws both his hands up, tweaking and rubbing at the little buds simultaneously. He tips his head back on the pillow and closes his eyes, pleasurable sighs escaping his mouth. Dean watches on from his stance at the foot of the bed, fondling his cock to the sinful scene before him.

“So good, baby,” Dean rasps, and Sam moans loudly, pulling and twisting a nipple even harder.

They never really use terms of endearment and pet names unless their lips are loose with the passion and desperation of sex, but Dean knows it drives Sam _wild_.

“That’s it, sweetheart.”

And Sam moans again, hips rocking futilely at the air, cock softly bobbing up and down. Sam opens his eyes and whimpers when he sees Dean lightly stroking himself.

“Come on, Dean,” Sam begs, slight quiver in his voice.

“Alright, Sammy. Gonna take the edge off.” Dean kneels on the floor, hooks his hands around Sam’s thighs, and pulls him to the edge of the bed, throwing Sam’s legs over his shoulders.

Dean kisses the inside of Sam’s left thigh then the right before returning to the left to bite and suck. Sam’s fingers return to their place in his hair, urging Dean to move slightly up his body. He complies and gives a single lick up Sam’s cock before taking the tip into his mouth. Sam groans, and Dean feels Sam’s dick twitch and blurt out precum in his mouth.

It’s musky and heady and has him sliding down the shaft to draw in more of that intoxicating taste. Dean bobs up and down a couple times and uses his hand and the dribbling saliva to pump the parts his lips can’t reach. Sam’s breathing hard above him and clutching tightly at his hair, hips twitching under his hold in an attempt to fuck further into his mouth.

His jaw’s starting to tire, so he pulls off and continues the rhythm with his hand before Sam can complain. He sticks a finger from his other hand in his mouth to wet as he eagerly watches Sam thrust up into his downstroke. When he deems his finger wet enough, Dean trails it teasingly light down Sam’s balls, makes Sam keen when he presses it down on his perineum, and finally, presses it into Sam’s hole.

After all this time, Sam’s is remarkably tight, but like muscle memory, he opens up beautifully to Dean’s finger. When his finger’s fully sheathed, he presses and prods and stretches until Sam’s loose enough for a second. Even though he’s in a bit of a frenzy to be in Sam rather than pull away, Dean’s still not willing to hurt him if he can help it. Sam shows his reluctance with the way he grips him tighter and the way he whines, but Dean retracts his hands and makes his way over to his bag.

Dean quickly snatches up the lube and turns back to the bed where Sam, the impatient little brat, is already touching himself.

“Seriously, Sam? Continuing without me?” Dean grins as he settles back on his knees before Sam.

“Taking too long,” Sam huffs, dropping his hands.

“It was like ten seconds,” Dean argues, warming the lube between his fingers. “Spread for me.”

Sam brings his feet up to a wide stance on the bed, baring the perfect, little pucker that’s just asking Dean to fuck it, so he plunges in two fingers and causes Sam’s breath to hitch. The two fingers swirl inside Sam slowly, gradually pumping in and out until one accidentally catches against that spot that has Sam jerking up with a gasp. Dean’s dying to see that reaction again, so he angles his fingers for the next thrust. And the next one, and the next one, and the next.

It’s only a matter of seconds before Sam’s fisting the sheets and his dick's steadily leaking in a tantalizing manner that compels Dean to suck it back into his mouth. He stays focused on the head, Sam’s most sensitive part, circling his tongue around it and lapping at the slit.

Dean begins to rub insistently at Sam’s prostate, and Sam begins to shake apart, babbling words that might be his name but sounds like nonsense. It never really does take long for Sam to fall apart when there’s fingers in his ass and a mouth on his dick— _Even less so now_ , Dean observes, _that he’s gone so long untouched_. Sam comes with a long drawn out _Dean_ , back arching, legs clamping down around his head, nearly tearing the sheets, and clenching down around Dean’s fingers. Dean’s resolute in swallowing down all of it, lips sealing around the shaft, but Sam must’ve been so backed up that it’s impossible, and the last spurt of cum floods his mouth and escapes to trickle down Sam’s cock.  

Dean licks up the fallen bits until Sam is wincing with oversensitivity. Lax and boneless from his orgasm makes Sam look perfectly fuckable, so Dean quickly finishes prep, adding in a third finger to the slackened hole.

“You ready, honey?” Dean asks, arranging Sam how he wants him—on his stomach and head now at the foot of the bed.

Spreading his legs and lifting his hips an inch off the bed, Sam nods and Dean sinks the tip of his dick in. It’s like a vice of warm, wet satin around him; he needs _more_. Putting his hands on those slim hips, Dean pulls Sam back onto him until his hips are flush with that glorious, bouncy ass, and Sam’s hips are raised in an inviting position with his chest still pressed to the bed.

Dean hunches over and grits his teeth, trying not to lose it all in a second. God, he’s missed this _so_ much, missed the way Sam flutters around him when he first sinks in, missed the way Sam’s insides caress and pull him in like they still want him deeper. They’re both breathing heavily now, like they’re both so overwhelmed by the magnanimity of their re-coupling, and it takes everything in Dean not to piston his hips like crazy. He pulls out slowly, giving Sam plenty of time to adjust, and groans at the sight of Sam’s rim gripping him like it doesn’t want to let him go. It’s mesmerizing, so he repeats his movements a few times and just watches.

Sam seems to grow impatient because he gets up on all fours and begins to roll his hips back.

“What are you waiting for? A formal invitation to ream my ass?” He grits, sarcastic little brother voice coming through.

Dean would love to do nothing more, but he can’t bring himself to do it just yet.

“You sure? It’s been a while, and you’re still a little tight.”

“I’m sure, Dean,” Sam says exasperatedly yet reassuringly. “Just fuck my ass.”

Sam knows his body, knows what he can take, and it’s not like they haven’t fucked rougher before, so Dean tightens his grip, slams back in, and starts pounding that eager hole at a speed that has Sam mewling.

Tearing his eyes away from how Sam’s ass jiggles upon impact, Dean looks at the mirror and, with warmth roiling in his gut, watches as they rock together, but Sam’s head is hanging between his shoulders. Dean really needs to see his face, needs to make sure he’s enjoying this as much as he is, so he implores Sam to lift his head and is granted with the most blissed out expression.

“You like that?” Dean smirks. “Should watch yourself getting dicked in the mirror. So hot, Sammy.”

He sees the moment Sam focuses in on their image, his eyes darken and his mouth drops open around a moan, but he feels it more as Sam clamps down around him.

“God, Dean. So hot, so sexy. Watching you fuck me so well.”

Hearing those words makes something light up inside Dean, ripping into a primal urge that’s saying _more, more, give Sammy what he wants_. If Sam wants a show, Dean’s gonna give it to him.

With a growl, Dean leans down, slides an arm around Sam’s chest, and hauls him up to lean against him. Sam’s head lolls back on Dean's shoulder, eyes rolling back and closing. This way, Sam’s completely barred for viewing pleasure, completely open to be used for Dean’s own pleasure. And what a pleasure it is seeing Sam’s chest heave, Dean’s hand over his heart, pinky teasing a nipple, thighs spread and straining, and an already burgeoning erection thrashing about with each smack of Dean’s hips. It’s only fair for Dean to share in the show.   

“Sweetheart, come on. You’re gonna wanna see this. You look so good, so good on my dick,” Dean pants at Sam’s shoulder.

Sam’s head rolls forwards again, forehead dragging against Dean’s neck, until bleary eyes get a glimpse of the scene played out before them. A low whine and then he’s burying his face back into Dean’s neck. Sam seems to very much like what he sees, but he’s missing it now, and Dean can’t have that.

“Aah, aah,” Dean chides. “Open your eyes, Sammy. Tell me what you see.”

It’s like he’s drugged, the sluggish way he opens his eyes and the valiant attempt to keep them open. His hands come up to hold on to the arm Dean has bolstered around his chest. “I see—” he starts before choking on a gasp. “Doing me so… ah, ah... well. Making me feel so… ohh... good.” Sam’s eyes seek Dean’s out. “Love seeing… ah… you behind me, seeing how you make… mmm… body feel, watching you watch me.”

Dean rewards Sam by squeezing his hip, digging into that bruise he made earlier. It makes Sam squirm inside and out. Listening to those words and the lewd sounds, feeling the soft, wet heat rub around him, seeing Sam so wanton and obscenely erotic is becoming too much; he bites down on Sam’s neck in an attempt to get back some control. He would’ve been totally done, shooting off in an instant, if he had those beautiful, kiss-reddened lips on his, and yet, despite wanting to pleasure Sam forever, it’s suddenly all he needs, all he wants, all he can think about.

“Come on, kiss me, baby, yeah? Kiss me.”

Sam obliges and crashes their lips together, hungrily diving into Dean’s mouth, fueling the fire sitting in the pit of Dean’s stomach. The end is coming, Dean can feel it, especially in the way his balls are tightening up to his body. He breaks off with a sharp intake of breath, and Sam must sense his urgency because he starts to roll his hips back faster and continues to kiss the side of his face, only to stopping to breathlessly whisper, “Fill me up, Dean.”

“Damn, sugar,” Dean wheezes. Punctuating his words with erratic thrusts, he grinds out through his teeth, “I’ve got a big load saved up for you. Gonna give you what you want, gonna pump you full till your dripping with my cum.”

Without delay, Dean delivers on his promise and comes long and hard, hips stuttering to a still, shooting thick and steady pulses deep into Sam, deep roars ripping from his throat. It feels like every single nerve in his body is alight, pleasure crackling from his toes up to his hair, and then, he’s floating, floating for hours and hours until he crashes back down, arms tightly circling Sam like he’s his anchor.

“Oh, fuck,” he exhales, finally recovered enough from his mind bending orgasm. Brain still a little soupy and mushy, he kisses Sam softly along his cheek and gently pets over his heart, but Sam grows a little squirmy at his ministrations.

“Baby,” Sam urges, trying to guide the hand caressing his hip to his swollen cock, but Dean catches his wrist in his hand and brings it up to his lips.

“No, no, honey. I have a better idea.”

He pulls out, leaving Sam to whine like he usually does when left feeling empty, and leans over the side of the bed to pick up the discarded lube. Sam’s burning eyes are tracking him through the mirror. He inwardly smirks, a little smug that Sam’s so close to begging for him.

Dean stacks the pillows on the right side of the bed to recline on, draws his knees closer, and spreads his legs until his hole is visible. Sam gasps and this time he can’t hide his smirk. Brushing a finger over his hole, he asks, “Think you have it in you, Sammy?”

Sam scrambles to turn on his knees to face Dean, but his limbs must still be a little weak because he stumbles like a coltish lamb and falls right back onto the bed.

“Alright, alright,” Dean chuckles. “You just lay there and watch until you get your energy back. Big brother will start on this.”

His slicked up finger traces around the rim, finally pushing in when he catches Sam’s eyes in the mirror. His eyes close under the pleasurable pressure and he begins to thrust the finger in and out. When he opens his eyes, he finds Sam intently watching his finger disappear into his body. A low moan escapes him, and it must breathe life back into Sam because he’s suddenly up and towering over Dean.

There’s the unmistakable snick of lube, and suddenly his hand is torn away from his body and Sam’s shoving two fingers in. “Oh fuck, Sam,” he grunts as the fingers inside him begin to scissor and pull at his rim. He really shouldn’t be able to get hard again, not really young enough to do so anymore, but he’s been so pent up that he never fully softened. Plus the way Sam’s fingers work, it’s kinda hard not to.

There’s a wildness in Sam’s eyes, he’s breathing so heavily, and it looks like just one touch will have him bursting at the seams. Dean wiggles his hips on Sam’s finger, an action that results in them both whimpering, testing out how loose he is, and decides it’s time to put Sam out of his misery. He leans up gives Sam a quick kiss and nods. Sam wastes no time in extracting his fingers and lubing up his dick. He pushes in with a shaky breath, and Dean tilts his head back, relishing in the feel of being filled up, rim being stretched so tight, and Sam pressing into every inch of him.   

Sam braces one hand against the bed, and his other arm pulls Dean to him. Once Dean grabs onto both his shoulders, Sam slips his arm down to wrap around his waist and begins thrusting in earnest. The first few thrusts after being penetrated is Dean’s favorite part of Sam topping. He knows he’s not the perfect bottom, doesn’t get all whiny and slutty when his ass is played with and can’t come without his dick being touched, but feeling Sam carve his place into his body until there’s an actual space _inside_ him as well that he can give all to Sam is enough get his dick immensely hard. Plus, the head of his cock grinding against the softness of Sam’s stomach, his cum from earlier slicking the way, is all the additional friction he needs to get off.

Sam’s panting _Dean, Dean, Dean_ in a high pitched, thready voice broken up sporadically with little whimpers and whines whenever Dean clenches down. His eyes are half-lidded and hazy in lust, trying to keep their gazes locked but steadily failing as his face begins to scrunch up with surmounting pleasure.

There’s nothing better than when Sam gets like this, absolutely wrecked yet trying his best to hold out for him, but Dean decides to take mercy on him and moves his hand from his grip on Sam’s shoulder to the back of his head and gently guides him to bury his face in his neck. Sam lets out one more loud moan before attaching his lips to suck at the skin below him.

He’s petting and kissing Sam’s hair when he notices movement over Sam’s shoulder. His eyes catch on his reflection in the mirror and then drifts downwards, and what he sees is so insanely _hot_. Sam’s glutes are flexing in a mesmerizing rhythm as he thrusts, his balls slapping against Dean’s ass, but the cherry on top of it all is Dean can see Sam’s hole with how his legs are spread. It’s still flushed and puffy from his cock, and his cum is leaking out of it now, dripping down and glistening the backs of Sam’s thighs and balls until it flicks onto the sheets.

Dean loses all control after that, coming with a shout, cum erupting between the two of them. This orgasm’s just as good as the first, also sending his mind on a disorienting high. What happens next is a bit of a blur. He remembers hearing Sam’s sobs of pleasure and a warmth filling and spreading in his ass, but what happens before and after that is a complete mystery. One minute he’s coming and the next he’s back to awareness as Sam shifts on top of him, dislodging his cock and sliding along his stomach with the cooling cum.  

He rolls out from underneath Sam, and after wobbling on unsteady legs, makes to the bathroom to clean himself up. On his way back, he throws a warm cloth at Sam’s face and belly flops onto the bed. He watches Sam halfheartedly clean himself, and a lazy contentment washes over him. Even though he’s _definitely_ planning on more sex, he feels like he might actually cry tears of joy because his dick’s _finally_ satisfied enough to stay soft when he so much as breathes in Sam’s direction, but he can’t help notice that part of his current happy buzz seems to come from the revival of intimate moments like the one they’re having right now.

It’s not something either of them will admit, but they’re both suckers for the post-coital—oftentimes very cuddly—sweet and intimate moments. How can’t he be? Especially with the way Sam’s clinging to him and looking at him with such an open and loving expression. Dean’s heart warms, and he pulls Sam closer till they’re cuddled up side to side, Sam’s leg thrown over his, his arm slung low across Sam’s wasit. He reaches over for the towel to clean up a spot Sam missed on the back of his thigh before laying a few sweet kisses on the adoring grin aimed at him. They lie there simply pressed together for a few minutes, not really kissing, just smiling against each other, breathing in each other’s air, basking in the afterglow. Dean’s ready to stay in his little intimate bubble of Sam, love, and happiness forever, but not every part of his body seems to agree as his stomach growls, ringing out loudly in the quiet.

“God, I really worked up an appetite. Ready to hit up the buffet, Sammy?”

Sam snorts and feebly slaps at Dean’s arm before snuggling in a little closer.

“Mmm, five more minutes.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite what the title may suggest, this story actually has little to do with Vegas and is more a giant, multi-chaptered PWP about Sam and Dean camping. Sorry if I gave you false expectations.  
> And after tonight's episode with Dean coming back and his reaction to all the people in the bunker, I thought this story would also fit really well in Season 14.

**Day 2**

* * *

 

The lure of Vegas proves to be too strong. After dinner, Dean begs Sam to let him play one game of poker, and they both end up strapped to the table till the early morning, slinging back shots one after another. It’s not their smartest idea—but then again, who makes good decisions in Vegas?—as their late night of fun has them sleeping in, nearly missing their checkout time.

It isn’t until sometime after lunch that they arrive at their campsite. There aren’t many campers this time of year, but they pick a secluded spot, far down the trail and away from where anyone else would be. It’s a good spot; there’s flat ground, some nice shade, scenic views, a short walk away to a nearby spring, and a good smattering of trees around them for extended privacy—privacy Dean’ll need if he wants to continue to do wicked things to his little brother.

After the tent is fully erected, Dean shares a look with Sam, and an understanding passes between them. Even though they can crawl into the tent, slip into their sleeping bags, and start the fun now, they’ll wait till later, let the tension build a little bit. Plus, there’s still some things to do before the sun sets. He’s got to put their food in a safe place, and it’s taking him a little longer than expected. He could really use Sam’s help; all he has to do is stop being distracting every time he bends down to pick up firewood.

Despite the mind-blowing sex last night, Dean starts to get antsy during dinner, feeling like it’s been an eternity since he’s had Sam. It’s like he’s some sort of recovering addict who just had one hit again and can’t get enough. He’s beginning to regret their earlier decision, and with the way his eyes keep glancing at Dean, Sam must feel the same.

The day finally draws to a close, and their longing to quickly retire shows with the rushed way they clean up and get ready for bed. As soon as Dean’s done zipping up the tent, Sam’s mouth seeks him out, kissing him with a passion that feels like it’ll start a wildfire around them. It’s all teeth and tongue and just this side of feral, and Dean understands because he’s the same too: _desperate_.

Desperate to just let go after restraining for so long. Desperate to feel the caress of his skin against Sam’s. Desperate to just fuck into that hot body and quickly get off under Sam’s touch. Desperate to just be with Sam, be one with Sam. But despite all of his instincts telling him to act on all his desperations now, what he really wants to do—and he’ll never let anyone hear him describe it as such—is to make slow, sweet love to Sam.

In the bunker, it’s impossible to fit in a quickie, let alone take their time. It’s been so long since they spent hours in bed just kissing slowly, worshipping each other’s bodies, making sure the other knew he was loved. Sure, Dean loves sex, especially when it’s with Sam, but their love has never been dependent on it. It’s just that sex is a good benchmark to see where they are with each other. If it’s aggressive and standoffish, they’re usually in a bit of a rough patch—Dean grimaces every time he remembers all the hatesex during those wasted years they spent pissed off at each other—but if the sex is passionate and doting, well, Dean’s not sure he’s ever been happier in a relationship. Having not made love in months, he’s dying to see where Sam is in their relationship, dying to see if Sam knows how much love and affection he holds in Dean’s heart.

So Dean snakes a hand into Sam’s hair and pulls him back a little. A whine starts to form in Sam’s throat, but Dean calms it by placing a sweet, almost chaste-like kiss to his lips. Sam tries to amp it up again, but Dean just slows it down until Sam understands his intentions and relaxes into Dean with a happy sigh. Their lips languidly move against each other, a wisp of tongue poking out to trace along Sam’s lower lip, prompting Sam to open his mouth and welcome Dean’s tongue in to indolently wrestle against his. Dean finally pulls away, pressing one last kiss onto corner of Sam’s lips, and guides Sam to lie back on the sleeping bag.

“Let’s get your clothes off, Sammy.”

Sam nods with a tender smile, and Dean undresses him slowly, occasionally brushing fingers or lips against uncovered skin, until the only thing Sam’s left wearing is that smile. It’s such a sweet smile, so sweet it has him leaning down to see if it tastes as such.

Dean’s hand skitters down Sam’s right arm until he reaches his hand and interlocks their fingers. He raises their hands to rest level with Sam’s head and pulls back from their kiss to look down at the sight before him. Sam’s looking at him openly, completely bare and ready to give himself all to Dean.

“Looking good there, little brother,” Dean whispers, a hint of reverence mixed in with his usual glib tone.

Sam squeezes his fingers in answer. With one more peck to Sam’s cheek, Dean shifts back, fingers lingerly dragging across Sam’s palm as he detangles their hands’ embrace, and begins to strip. Sam’s eyes follow his movements, hunger growing in those beautiful hazel depths with each article of clothing he removes.  

Fully nude, Dean rolls up his coat and places it under Sam’s hips before being pulled back down. As their lips align, skin touches skin and creates little sparks of pleasure that elicit little hums of delight from Dean. Sam takes his sounds as encouragement and roams his hands over every inch of Dean’s body he can reach. Sam’s hands feel up the muscles in his shoulders, slides down his spine, squeezes his ass, pets his sides and his abs before heading south. There’s a featherlight, teasing touch along his length and it drives Dean crazy, restless enough to frantically mouth up the column of Sam’s neck, along his jawline, and up to his ear. The grip on his cock tightens when he bites down on Sam’s earlobe, and he sucks hard at it when that grip starts to move. Before all coherent thought can switch to his downstairs brain, he grabs at Sam’s hands and brings them back up.

“My turn, sweetheart,” Dean says as he nips at Sam’s fingertips.

He intertwines their fingers again and stretches their hands to lay above Sam’s head before moving down to nuzzle Sam’s chest. His lips latch onto a nipple, and Sam arches towards the heat of his mouth. He bites and sucks at it until it’s swollen and puffy under his lips, then pulls off and blows on the reddened, little nub causing Sam to keen. Dean’s tempted to keep teasing the sensitive nipple until Sam’s begging him to stop, but the other one has stiffened up in anticipation, and Dean thinks it deserves some loving too.

After each nipple has been given proper attention and turned into the perfect cherry red toppings for the creamy skin of Sam’s chest, Dean trails further downwards, stopping briefly to tongue at Sam’s belly button, and goes over each mark from the night before. He sucks harshly at each bite mark and hickey, each finger-shaped bruise, and then soothes them all with a soft, apologetic kiss. The breathing above him has grown ragged by the time he finally reaches the love bite he left on Sam’s inner thigh. He brings his hands down to part those already open knees wider, leaving Sam’s hips tilted up in the air and his legs spread wide enough for Dean’s lips to be an agonizingly far inch away from his exposed hole.

Dean dives right in and places a kiss right on the enticing, little pucker. Sam bucks so hard Dean has to pull back in fear of breaking his nose on Sam’s crotch. Eating Sam’s ass is _awesome_ —if he were on death row, he’d probably request it as his last meal (with a side of pie)—but it’s not worth breaking his face over. With a chuckle, he affectionately slaps Sam’s ass once in retaliation, earning himself an annoyed little brother grumble, and grapples the back of Sam’s thighs before returning to bury his face between those round cheeks.  

Flattening his tongue, Dean licks one long swipe up before circling around the quivering hole once, and then once again in the opposite direction. Sam’s writhing against him,unable to suppress the little squeaks of pleasure escaping his throat as Dean continues to lap around his rim, moving his tongue this way and that, in complete circles and half arcs, each time licking into him a little deeper. When the tender flesh beneath his lips is all slick and yielding, Dean seals his mouth around the pucker and sucks. Sam howls and thrashes about, and Dean distantly wonders if they’ll attract coyotes.

Dean gives a few light licks waiting for Sam to calm down some. Once Sam’s back returns to lie flat on the sleeping bag, Dean points his tongue and burrows it into the lax hole. He swirls it around once then drags his tongue out from the addictive pull of Sam’s ass, up over his balls, and up to the tip of his dick, where he gives a quick flick, before wrapping his lips around the head and working his mouth down Sam’s length. When Sam’s body begins to tense and signs of orgasm becomes imminent, Dean pulls off, licks his lips to collect any lingering essence of Sam, and returns to tongue fuck that delicious, waiting hole. He repeats his movements, tongue making the pilgrimage from within Sam’s ass, to the slit at the tip of his dick, and then down around the shaft once more, twice more; he’s just about to finally bring Sam off from the height of pleasure, but Sam’s gasping above him, weakly trying to push him away.

“Dean, stop. I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that.”

Dean pulls off Sam’s dick with a pop. “That’s ok, honey. Come when you’re ready.”

Sam shakes his head and hurriedly reaches down to cup his face, effectively stopping Dean’s mouth from returning to its place on his cock. “No, no. I want to come with you in me.”

God, those are some of the best words he’s ever heard come out of Sam’s mouth. Dean squeezes his eyes shut tight, trying to not mount Sam right then and there. He turns his head both ways in Sam’s hands and kisses the center of each palm.

“Alright, Sammy. Let’s get you opened up then, hmm?”

“Lube,” Sam says as he nods vigorously, retracting his hands and lying back down, “my coat pocket.”

Dean wonders how long Sam’s had lube in his pocket, wonders if he’d been waiting for Dean to just jump him. Had Sam really been desperate enough to carry lube around in his jacket all day, prepared and ready for use whenever the moment struck? His nerdy little brother really is a boy scout. The thought makes him chuckle, but he doesn’t move to get it. Instead, he dips his head back down and shoves his tongue back into Sam’s hole.

“Dean, what are—” Sam starts but is cut off when Dean’s finger pushes in against his tongue.

Sam moans, and Dean thinks his earlier rim job has already prepped Sam enough for another. He scissors his two fingers, rim opening up to reveal the velvety pink of Sam’s ass, and shoves his tongue in deeper. His fingers and tongue work in tandem, each thrusting in and out, intermittently stopping to rub and caress Sam’s insides. Sam humps his hips back, riding his face, trying to get more friction, trying to get Dean deeper. He’s so preoccupied trying to please and coax Sam open that he’s a bit startled when something hard presses into the top of his head.

“Babe, now. Please.”

Dean looks up at that breathless plea and comes face to face with a bottle of lube in Sam’s insistent hand. He takes the bottle wordlessly, slicks up his fingers, and judging Sam loose enough for it, sinks in three fingers.

When his fingers are finally sliding in and out of Sam’s hole easily, he crawls back up Sam’s body, and once he’s stretched out on top of Sam, his lips are immediately devoured. Sam’s tongue, so wet and demanding, pushes into his mouth, trying to lick past the taste of himself and find the sweetness of Dean underneath. Dean grips his cock, ready to bury himself deep in that ass he’s left open and wanting, when in his mind’s eye, a sudden vivid image of his duffel sitting outside the tent makes him stop.

“Fuck,” Dean groans, dragging his lips of Sam’s and forcing himself to get up.

“Where are you going?”

“Condom. Left them outside.”

“We don’t need those.” Sam sits up, looking confused.

“We don’t have a bathroom out here, Sam. Condoms will be easier and cleaner. If I come in you, you’re gonna have to deal with my cum sliding out of you when you do your little nature hikes.”

“Want it that way, Dean,” Sam pouts, those damn puppy dog eyes coming out in full force and rendering the argument over before it even started.

“Ok, but don’t think I won’t say I told you so when you complain later,” Dean relents, leaning down to kiss Sam with a teasing smile. Who’s he to deny Sam what he wants anyway?

Dean grabs ahold of himself again and guides it to Sam’s entrance, where he rubs and teases the hole with the head of his cock. Sam’s rim twitches on every pass in an attempt to draw him in. It’s utterly obscene the way Sam’s hole is adorned with smears of spit, lube, and precum; that combined with Sam’s eager whining has him slowly sinking into the sweet, warm embrace of Sam’s body.

It’s nearly simultaneous, the contented sigh they both let out when they’re fully joined together. Dean stills and looks down at his beautiful little brother; body, though scarred and showing years of rough treatment, still so strong and healthy and housing a heart whose beats are music to his ears, skin flushed and so full of life, a smile so lazy and soft it can indicate nothing else but happiness, and eyes shining at him with all the same tender and loving emotion that must be mirrored in his own. No matter how many times Dean sees Sam this way, it’s absolutely breathtaking and has him falling in love all over again each and every time.

“Ok there, baby?” Dean asks, gently pushing the hair out of Sam’s eyes.

Sam nods and grabs at the hand caressing his hair, dragging it down to lay a kiss on before holding it over his heart. He wraps his legs around Dean’s waist, bringing him in closer at the same time as giving Dean permission to move.

Dean slots their lips together, draws his hips back until just the head is left encircled in the tight ring of muscle, and then pushes back into the welcoming heat. It’s a delicious slide of silky, wet, and warm pulling on his dick; a feeling so good that even the most righteous man wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation. But Sam is his and his only; he’s the only one who gets Sam like this, the only one who Sam’s allowed to have him at his most intimate. Just that thought alone drives Dean’s hips to fuck forward over and over again, unable to stop even if he wanted to. His pace isn’t fast like their more rambunctious and frenzied sessions, nor is it slow like when he’s teasing Sam, trying to bring out that needy, begging little brother side he likes so much. It’s perfectly in the middle, at a speed that’s just enough to stoke the fire in his belly and to have Sam softly moaning on every odd thrust.  

They’re in sync, Sam’s moving his hips in time to his, meeting each of Dean’s thrusts with his own. The hand not covering Dean’s over his heart slides into the hairs at the nape of Dean’s neck and pulls him down to rest their foreheads together, gazes locking and staring deeply into each other. Like this, Dean can see every emotion in those hazel eyes, every minute reaction to the pleasure thrumming through Sam’s body. Dean’s not sure which is his favorite: the twitch in Sam’s jaw whenever Dean’s dick rubs against his prostate, the tongue that quickly flicks out to wet his lips, or the way those eyes seem to grow darker in lust with every passing second. With the hand formerly resting on Sam’s heart, he grabs ahold of Sam’s erection, eliciting a shudder in the body below him, and pumps it in rhythm to his fucking.

Sam falls apart, mouth opening on a silent scream, half-lidded eyes staring into Dean’s as orgasm wracks his body. Dean works him through it, hips still grinding, cock milking his prostate, hand wringing out the last of Sam’s cum, and all the while never breaking eye contact. Once Sam finally reaches the end of his drawn out orgasm and closes his eyes with one last shiver, breaking the connection, Dean comes. His eye flutter shut as well, a groan falling from his lips as he presses his hips as far into Sam as he can, emptying every last drop of cum deep into his little brother.

When he opens his eyes, he’s met with the sparkle of his brother’s watching over him. There’s a tender smile on Sam’s face and his fingers gently stroke the back of Dean’s neck. Dean’s heart swells, and the love welling up in his chest is so overwhelming he has to duck his head down and, wanting a direct line to Sam’s heart, kiss at Sam’s pulse point. He pulls back a hair, Sam’s chin still resting on the top of his head, and ardently mutters his brother’s name.

“Yeah, me too, Dean,” Sam responds, placing a kiss to the crown of his head. There’s no reason to say it aloud; it’s already so evident in the air around them.

Long moments of sweet caresses and even sweeter kisses pass until Dean’s eyelids grow heavy, willing him to go to sleep. He reaches overhead into Sam’s bag and pulls out a towel to clean them both up. Once he’s finally satisfied that Sam’ll be clean and comfortable for the night, he lies back down in his brother’s arms where they kiss slow and lazy, each press of lips a promise to meet up in their dreams, until they both drift off.


	3. Chapter 3

**Day 3**

* * *

 

Bird songs, nature’s alarm clock.

Dean wishes he could say that the chirping of some finch or other woke him up like some sort of Disney princess, but no, what rouses him is a pressure on his lower body and a shifting of his sleeping pants. It’s worrisome but not so worrisome that it deserves the attention of him opening his eyes and robbing him of much needed sleep. Plus, the campsites warded up the wazoo, so he doubts some monster could make its way through and attempt to steal his pants or whatever’s happening right now.

A blast of cool air hits his skin before it’s quickly replaced by something warm, kinda wet, and actually pretty comforting. He’s still pretty beat from last night and whatever is happening to him is actually doing a pretty good job of lulling him back to sleep. It’s not until he reawakens sometime later that he realizes what it is.

This time, Dean wakes up slowly, lets the sunlight streaming through the tent light up the backs of his eyelids. The sensation from before comes into sharper focus, and it’s suddenly the only thing he can concentrate on. It’s centered right on his dick, a warm and damp sensation engulfing him. The feeling’s not alien, he’s woken up like this before—wishes he could wake up like this more often—so without even opening his eyes, he’s confident that he’s receiving a Sam Winchester Good Morning Blowjob.

Dean cracks one eye open and, as expected, sees a tousled mop of chestnut hair obscuring his lap. He tilts his head a little to the right, opens the other eye, and with this better, not as hairy angle, gets a clear view of Sam’s face.

Sam’s lying on his front in between Dean’s legs, weight slightly shifted to lean against his left one. His head is resting against Dean’s thigh, eyes half-lidded and staring off into the distance in that way he gets when he’s distracted with his thoughts. Those pretty, pink lips are wrapped around him, gently suckling his cock. Occasionally, a lackadaisical tongue lightly traces random lines and patterns over the sensitive skin.

It’s all very light and easy movements, nothing really enough to make him hard, but the sight of Sam down there makes his dick jump noticeably enough to break Sam out of his reverie. Sam shifts his gaze upwards at the twitch, and when he sees Dean awake and watching, a hint of a smile appears on the lips stretched around Dean’s cock, and a bigger one lights up his eyes.

Dean smiles back. “Morning, Sammy.” He reaches down and combs the hair out of Sam’s eyes. “Sleep well?”   

Sam pulls off, and Dean instantly misses him. “Yeah, better than I have in a while,” he huffs with a laugh, nuzzling into the crease of Dean’s thigh.

Dean believes him. They both sleep better when they have the lullaby of each other’s heartbeat in their ears, but it’s rare these days unless one of them is willing to run the risk of sneaking into the other’s room late in the night and sneak back out early in the morning. Even when they head out of town for a case, usually Jack, Cas, or their mom is there, forcing them to book the room with two queens.

“‘Bout time you woke up though. I was getting bored waiting for you to.”

“I can see that,” Dean chuckles. “Found something to keep yourself busy.”

“Yeah, well.” Sam licks across the tip of his dick, a move that has Dean plumping up. “Had to entertain myself somehow. Been waiting like half an hour.” Sam says it like he’s complaining, but it’s probably all for show. He’s just keeping up his annoyed, impatient little brother shtick. Dean knows Sam loves to let him sleep in, make sure he’s well-rested; he also knows that Sam is a bit of a fiend when it comes to sucking his dick, so Sam’s taken up wake up blowjobs as a way to combine his two interests.

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Dean says, folding his arms behind his head.

Sam snorts with fond exasperation but lays his head back down on Dean’s thigh and draws him back into his mouth. He begins to suck a little harder, move his tongue a little faster, but it’s all still very unhurried. If you look up the definition for lazy Sunday morning blowjobs, Dean’s pretty sure this is what it’d look like. Time passes with nothing but the soft ministrations of Sam’s mouth, and Dean worries he might drop off again, but every time his eyelids start to droop, Sam’ll do something wicked with his tongue or sigh real happy around him, causing Dean’s conscious to jolt awake.

When he’s finally fully hard and the outline of his erection bulges in Sam’s cheek, Sam redistributes his weight to lie fully on his stomach, lifts his head up, and swallows as much of Dean down as he can. The sudden, enveloping, wet heat sliding over the inches of his cock has Dean’s jaw dropping to let out a moan. His dick brushes the back of Sam’s throat, and Sam relaxes, trying to get the head of his cock in. Sam’s been trying to learn how to deep throat him, each time trying to take him in a little deeper, and if Dean has anything to admire about his little brother, it’s his diligence and thirst for knowledge. He hasn’t quite mastered it yet though, but Dean’s just so grateful that Sam’s even willing to put his mouth on him, let alone learn a whole new skill just for his pleasure. Plus, the way Sam lightly gags on his cock is kind of hot with the way his throat constricts around him.

Dean notices Sam retucking his hair behind his ear every few minutes when it falls back onto his face. Not only wanting to help Sam but also wanting to see what he looks like, he reaches down, threads his fingers through the soft and silky hair, and holds it away from Sam’s face. Sam looks up as Dean gets ahold of the last few strands, and he looks absolutely seductive. His eyes peeking up at Dean through his lashes look so big and round and so consumed with desire, his nose skims along the thatch of hair on Dean’s crotch, and his lips are stretched thin where it’s wrapped around where Dean’s at his widest. It makes Dean’s tighten his grip on the fistfuls of hair he has and after urging Sam a couple inches off his cock, starts to gently rock his hips along that slick tongue and into Sam’s waiting mouth.  

All too soon, Sam pulls off. A line of saliva attached to his lip hangs on to Dean’s dick like it doesn’t want to let go and is begging Sam to follow its trail and put his mouth back where it belongs. Dean props up on his elbows to protest, but before he can, Sam dips his head back down to give his balls a few kitten licks. He then drags that pink, pink tongue up to the base of Dean’s cock, where he sucks a few kisses into the tender skin, and trails it further up, tracing the thick vein on the underside of his cock, before sucking Dean down once again.

Sam starts to move with purpose; he’s bobbing his head up and down in short, jerky movements, letting drool dribble out to coat Dean’s dick, one hand massages his shaft and the other caresses his balls, and he’s moaning freely, sending vibrations running through Dean and creating a symphony with the filthy, wet sounds of his mouth.

Pleased with the attention on his dick, Dean goes to lie back down, but some sort of movement just beyond Sam’s head catches his attention. He involuntarily thrusts upwards when he realizes it’s Sam humping the sleeping bag. It’s a frantic press of hips into the bunched up cloth beneath him in a rhythm that’s nearly as sloppy good as the one his mouth’s working on Dean’s cock, and it’s so stupid hot to think that Sam’s getting off on sucking him.

Dean’s orgasm is suddenly so, so close. He tries to get out a warning, but Sam pulls off and kisses the the little bundle of nerves under the crown of his dick, and he just can’t hold back anymore. Grunting his brother’s name, he comes, initial spurt shooting out and landing on Sam’s cheek, and Sam hurries to seal his lips around his cock to swallow the rest.  

Once Dean’s sure there’s not an ounce of cum left in his balls, he pats Sam’s head as a signal to him to let off. His hand lingers in Sam's hair, petting and caressing it as he comes down, while Sam continues to press soft kisses to his inner thighs. Sam gets up, resting on his knees, when Dean finally pulls his hand away. Dean follows, sitting up and gets a proper look at his little brother.

Sam looks absolutely debauched, hair sticking up randomly from when he pulled too hard, lips red and swollen, wetness smeared over his face. Dean cups Sam’s jaw, and his thumb rests over the bit of cum that landed on his cheek. He rubs it in until it disappears into smooth skin, and Sam looks like a contented cat getting a real nice scratch behind the ears.

There’s also an unmistakable bulge tenting the front of Sam’s sweats and a growing wet patch from where his dick must be leaking. Dean zeros in on it, and his hand drops from Sam’s face to reach for his crotch

“Let me help you with that.”

Sam lightly shakes his head, backing up a bit. “ Just…” He pulls down his sweats to his knees. “Just watch, Dean.”

Sam’s hand flies across his length and Dean’s hands are itching to touch, but he follows orders, knows he’ll have plenty of time to touch later.

So, he takes it all in; the hazy eyes that are watching him back, the flush that starts from Sam’s hairline and continues on down below his shirt, how as one hand furiously strokes, the other is still, gripping tightly into the meat of his thigh, and the repeated peeking through long, slim fingers of his cock head flushed dark red. With a show like that, Dean can’t believe he isn’t hard again.

Sam’s hand begins to add in a slight twist until it suddenly stops at the base, squeezing there in what Dean assumes is an attempt to stave off his orgasm.

Sam waits until Dean’s eyes track up his body to meet his and whispers, “Kiss me, please.”

The need he sees in Sam’s eyes is so alluring that he wastes no time bridging the gap between their lips. The kiss is fierce, burning with passion, and Dean just lets Sam plunder his mouth and takes what he needs from him. They pull back, both their chests heaving, and before Dean completely sits back on his heels, he taps the hand Sam still has on his dick twice, signaling for him to continue.

He watches as Sam’s hand picks up its frenzied pace and can’t help but observe out loud, “Like me watching you, huh, Sammy?”

Sam nods frantically and makes a choked off sound of pleasure. With a couple more strokes, his hips buck forwards and he comes all over himself. His puffy lips round off and fingers dig further into the flesh of his thigh, both not relaxing until a couple moments after Sam’s done wringing out his cock.

When Sam finally lets go of himself, and the cum has no doubt cooled off, he stares down at his hand and grimaces. “Ugh, gross. This combined with your cum that leaked out during the night.”

Dean sniggers. “I told you so!”

“Yeah, well, I was horny, and my brain was hopped up on sex hormones. No one makes good decisions like that; you shouldn't've listened to me. I’m never having sex with you again,” Sam mutters the last part petulantly.

Dean laughs harder. “Hey, just a while ago you couldn’t even wait for me to wake up to get at my dick.”

Sam blushes and Dean makes his way to entrance of the tent, dropping a kiss on Sam’s head as he passes. He grabs his duffel from outside, pulls out a packet of wet wipes, and tosses it at Sam.

“Here, you clean up; I’ll start on breakfast.” 

With one last  _fucking told you so, Sammy_ accompanied by a shit-eating grin, Dean exits the tent and greets the morning sunshine.


	4. Chapter 4

**Day 4**

* * *

 

Sam’s a grown man who can take care of himself, but that doesn’t mean Dean and all his big brotherly instinct doesn’t worry. It’s been a while and Sam’s still not back from his _gonna hit the head, be back soon_ , so Dean goes off in search for him.

Sam’s actually not that far away, just a few minutes from their camp. He’s just standing in front of a tree, and it weirds Dean out a little bit.

“Dude, you’ve been gone twenty minutes. Is it burning while you pee? You better not have an STI, gonna throw a whole wrench into sex week.”

“What? No,” Sam says, throwing a glare at Dean. “Come look at this.”

Dean makes his way over and looks over Sam’s shoulder. He sees...nothing. There’s nothing there but a fuzzy, green tree.

“Please don’t tell me that came from your dick.”

“It’s moss, Dean,” Sam deadpans. “To be specific, it’s _Bruchia bolanderi_...”

And tuning out now. Dean does not want to hear the _Flora Found in the World_ podcast with Sam Winchester, expert in nerdology. Sometimes, he really wonders how Sam ended up like this—Dean didn’t raise no nerd—but he’s trying to be a better partner, so he begrudgingly starts to listen. Something something about moss in the Western US, blah blah about not lichens, and Dean’s just not sure how he’s going to survive this torture. This is just not interesting enough. And then he thinks, he’ll just have to make it interesting.

Dean takes a step forward, closing the small gap between him and Sam, and wraps his arms around his waist. He hooks his chin on Sam’s shoulder, and Sam flashes him a smile. Fool, must be thinking that Dean’s actually interested in what he’s saying. When Sam turns his attention back to the tree, Dean’s hands move lower until it reaches the button of his jeans.

The button is undone, and he’s reaching towards the zipper when one of Sam’s giant mitts grabs his, ceasing him from moving any further.

“Really, Dean?”

“What? I’m just listening to you talk about b-, uhh, Bru-Bruschetta bolero.”

“It’s _Bruchia bolanderi_ , and you need my dick out for that?”

“Well, the times you have your dick out and the times when we have fun seem to have some sort of correlation, so I just thought why not bring it out?”

“Dean,” Sam says reproachfully.

“Sam,” Dean levels back, not backing down. If his plan has any hopes of succeeding, he’s going to need to play dirty. He leans up, getting a hair's width away from Sam’s ear, lets a warm breath tantalizingly ghost across the shell of it, and whispers, “If you really want me to stop at anytime, just say, I, Samantha Winchester, would rather fuck moss than my sexy and wildly handsome older brother.”

It’s a little long and ridiculous as far as safewords go, but he knows Sam well enough to be pretty sure he won’t use it. Dean waits, a stillness settling over them with nothing but the wind blowing and the birds singing as the only proof of life still in motion. He gives enough time for Sam to think about it and to refuse it, but it doesn’t come. All that happens is the loosening of the grip on his hand. A victorious smile unfurls, and he presses a kiss behind Sam’s ear, barely audible as he mouths, “Good boy.”

Sam shivers in his arms, and Dean finally, teasingly slow, pulls the zipper down. He flattens both hands against Sam’s lean stomach and slides them down to dip beneath the waistband of Sam’s underpants until his fingertips skim along an already half-hard erection. Sam’s breath catches in anticipation, but nothing happens. Dean’s hands stay still, not reaching lower and grabbing hold of what he seemed so intent on having earlier; they’re just splayed out, feeling the muscle twitch beneath his palms.

“Now what were you saying about this here moss,” Dean says, voice never raising beyond a low rumble.

“Dean,” Sam whines, shimmying a little trying to get Dean’s hands a little lower where he wants them.

“Nuh uh, sweetheart. You wanted to talk about moss, talk about it. You want me to touch you how you want, you’re gonna need to start talking. Tell me what’s so special about this moss.”

Sam bites his lip and shuts his eyes. Dean thinks he’s about to say the embarrassing safe-phrase, but all that comes out is a shaky sigh.

“This moss is …” Sam begins, cuing Dean to grab hold of him. Sam instantly fills out in Dean’s hand and lets out a moan at the touch, words cutting off and getting lost in the waves of pleasure.  

“Sammy,” Dean says scoldingly at the abrupt silence, letting go.   

Another whine escapes Sam’s throat, and seemingly having learned his lesson, he breathlessly reintroduces the moss without Dean’s prompting. Dean waits until Sam gets through all the different names for the moss and slides his underpants down to hook below his balls. Sam’s stiff, pink cock slaps against his stomach, and Dean clutches the base to keep it from moving. He loosens his grip until his fist is barely encircling Sam and strokes up once, gently swiping his thumb over the head and spreading around the already oozing precum.

“So, what makes this plant so interesting?”

“Um, uh, it’s rare.” Dean starts a slow rhythm but barely uses any pressure, just lets his touch teasingly graze up and down Sam’s length. “Only found ’n, ah, three states”

“Only three states? You don’t say? Now what would those states be?”

“California, Ore-Oregon,” Sam stutters as Dean’s grip tightens with every new piece of information. “Oh God, uhh, Nevada,” Sam finishes, voice nearing a shout and fingertips digging into Dean’s arm.

“Tell me more,” Dean demands, dragging his lips along the column of Sam’s neck. His pace slightly picks up, adding in a gentle squeeze around the head. After a few pumps, he abruptly halts his movements as if to signal to Sam what his reward will be for anything else he can tell him. But Sam, mindless in his pleasure, continues to thrust into Dean’s hand, forcing Dean to wrap his free arm around Sam’s waist even tighter, grounding Sam’s hips to his own.

Sam’s reaction to the loss of stimulation is like a flip of the switch. His eyes flutter open in realization, brow quickly furrowing in thought, and his lips start moving, scrambling for something to say. “Oh! It, um, uh, only grows on damp soil and, uh, mountains, only mountains.”   

Pleased, Dean begins to move his hand again, making sure to incorporate all his earlier moves. Sam seems to have finally gotten used to their little game. His mouth doesn’t stop moving for a second, prattling non-stop about the moss’ appearance, peak season, and whatever else he can think of to keep him talking and keep Dean’s hand moving.

Dean actually listens, taking in all of Sam’s knowledge, but he pays extra close attention to those wonderful moments when Sam breaks and interjects little gasps and whines between all those lines of nerd-speak. Every time Dean hears one of those delectable noises, he encouragingly hums against Sam’s ear, hoping to spur Sam on some more.

He could spend all day teasing these little noises out of Sam, but he’s actually very curious why Sam knows so damn much about some growth on a tree. Dean knows Sam is an expert on all things lore, history, and a multitude of other subjects, but botany’s never been one he’s expressed much interest in.

“So, why exactly were you so interested in this moss, Sammy?” Dean genuinely asks, questioning eyes drifting up to Sam’s. His hand stills, and the hold he has around Sam’s waist relaxes. He lets Sam’s hips move freely now, lets him thrust into the hand he left around his dick.

“I read, ah, that it’s an ingredient in a...oh, fuck...powerful tracking spell, and…” Sam explains, words tumbling out faster and faster to match the steadily increasing pace he’s fucking into the tight circle of Dean’s fist. He’s listing out everything he knows about the spell, from ingredients to lasting effects, and Dean has to admit he’s pretty impressed by his little brother’s big ol’ brain and its ability to concentrate and multitask. But eventually, Sam’s brain either does short circuit or simply runs out of things to say because he starts babbling absolute nonsense, trying to string words together to form sentences but only succeeding in letting out sounds of pleasure.  

“It can..ohh, um, if you use th-God, Dean, fuck. The s-spell will, ngh Dean, please, I can’t, please just...“ Sam trails off with a whine, finally giving up and begging Dean to just let him cum.

“Alright, alright. You’ve waited long enough, been so good for me. Shh, I got you, baby.” Sam’s more than earned his right to an orgasm, so Dean acquiesces and begins to work his hand along Sam’s length, perfectly complimenting the quick rhythm Sam’s set with his hips.

“Come on, Sammy. Come for me. You can do it. Show me how good you can come.”

And with a couple more pumps, Sam lets out a sob, and his cock jerks with the force of his orgasm. Dean aims it away from Sam, and the thick, sticky spurts land on the tree before them. Specifically, it lands right on the moss Sam was so excited about. The cum glints brightly in the soft sunlight, the creamy white of it contrasts starkly against luscious green.

Dean looks down at the bits that landed on his hand and, thinking it would look much better on such greenery, steps out from behind Sam to wipe it on the moss.

Judging his hand sufficiently clean, he turns back to Sam and gives him a cheeky grin. “You said it was good in a spell? Well, collect some, preferably none with your jizz, and I’ll meet you back at camp.” And with those parting words, he makes his way back, leaving Sam with his cock limply hanging out of his trousers in the middle of the woods.

That’ll teach Sam to never bore him again. Or maybe it will. Either way, Dean’s not complaining.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's curious, I imagine them camping near Spring Mountain. So, not 100% Vegas desert setting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Day 5**

* * *

 

The key to a perfect s’more is all in the marshmallow. It has to be toasted just right; not to light where it’s basically raw, and not too long where it’s basically burnt sugar. Dean has it down to an art form, knows just how long to stick it in the fire to get that perfect toasty brown that’ll slightly melt the chocolate and create the perfect ooey gooey snack. Sam, on the other hand, lacks Dean’s culinary abilities.

Dean glances sideways just in time to see Sam catch his marshmallow on fire, frantically wave it around, and try to blow it out before it becomes a black crisp—what a dork; Dean tells him promptly so.   

Sam throws his him a bitch face—Dean expected it—but then gets up and marches towards him, burnt marshmallow on a stick still in hand. He plops down on Dean’s lap, face-to-face, and bites off half of the marshmallow.

There’s a long, sticky line of white connecting Sam’s lips to the half still on the stick; it snaps and lands as a little curlicue at the corner Sam’s mouth. Swallowing down the half he bit, Sam begins to lick at the remnants around his mouth. Dean can’t help but watch his tongue move, sweeping across a plump lower lip and lapping up specks of white.   

Once Sam has licked up all the remaining marshmallow on his face, he takes the other half from the stick in his hand, fingers sinking past the dark brown crackle into the white flesh, and feeds it to Dean. As soon as the marshmallow is in his mouth and his long fingers have retreated, Sam’s mouth is on his.

He can feel Sam’s tongue brush over the seam of his lips, trying to lick up the globs of sugar that got stuck there, and he opens up his mouth to it. Sam’s tongue dips in and presses the marshmallow down on Dean’s tongue, and the bitterness from the burnt edges gives way to an intensifying sweetness. Dean shudders into movement, tongue pushing back to pass some of the marshmallow into Sam’s mouth.  

They continue to make out like this, tongues swiping against each other, trying to get a taste of sweetness from the marshmallow and the person underneath. It’s slow and lazy; their open mouths pressing together, heavy pants puffing against the other's lips, and their spit's all laced with sugar and smearing around their mouths, creating a sticky mess that glues their lips together. Although a little messy and far from the best kiss they’ve shared, Dean can’t help but think it might be the damn sweetest.

When all of the marshmallow’s dissipated into their tongues and the need for air becomes overwhelming, they pull apart, just staring at each other as they regain their breath. Once Dean feels like he can breath again, Sam raises his hand and Dean realizes that there’s still some marshmallow clinging to his fingers. And just like that, all the air he just got back punches out of his lungs, leaving him breathless as he waits to see what Sam’ll do next.

Without breaking his gaze, Sam sticks his ring and middle finger in his mouth and begins sucking. Dean nearly whimpers at the sight in front of him; Sam’s cheeks hollow, and his lips looks so insanely suggestive as they stretch when he draws up off his fingers. He raises his hand, spreads out his fingers, revealing a web of white fluff trapped in between, and ever so sinfully, licks it up.

Once those two fingers are shiny wet and spit-soaked clean, Sam’s index finger, still covered in marshmallow, stands out like a sore thumb in its dirtiness. Unable to keep his eyes off it, Dean’s left waiting to see if Sam will give it the same wicked treatment he gave his other fingers.

Sam opens his mouth slowly, finger poised to slide right in, and Dean’s on edge waiting for those lips to close around himself and see his mouth work. But Sam's finger stills right before slipping in, his mouth closes without anything inside it, and he cocks his head to the side, contemplative expression flashing over his feature before his mischievous smile slides back into place. Dean’s about to protest when Sam’s finger moves away from his mouth, but just as his mouth opens to let out a whine, Sam shoves his finger in it.

Dean wastes no time sealing his lips around Sam’s finger, tongue curling around it, sucking and lapping up every bit of marshmallow he can. Once the taste of Sam’s skin overtakes the cloying sweetness, Dean glances up to look into Sam’s eyes as he continues to suck. Sam stares back at him, eyes darkening even more than Dean thought possible.

Dean groans around Sam’s finger when Sam shifts in his lap, hips starting to grind against his, and that’s when Dean realizes they’re both achingly hard. The continuous rut of Sam’s erection against his is so dizzying that he’s right on the edge in no time, ready to just come in his pants, repercussions be damned. But so suddenly, Sam gets up, pulls his finger away, and leaves Dean’s lap and mouth feeling way too empty.

Dean has to blink several times to reorient himself and figure out just where Sam went, but once he refocuses, he doesn’t have to look far as Sam’s only just beyond arm distance stripping out of his clothes. He lets out another groan, hand gripping at the bulge in his jeans, as Sam turns around and pulls his underpants over the curve of his ass. Sam has to know that he’s got Dean eating out of the palm of his hand now, as evidenced by the small grin he throws over his shoulder. He kneels down and reaches a long arm back to brush over the hand Dean still has gripped around himself.

“Pull it out, babe,” Sam says in a sultry whisper.

It’s not even a loud whisper; Dean’s barely able to hear it with the way his blood is rushing, but it rings out in the stillness of their empty campgrounds. Dean frantically undoes his pants, pulling his angry, red erection out of the confines of his shorts to meet the cool night air. All the while his eyes remain trained on Sam—mainly on his ass—watching as Sam pulls on one cheek to reveal his hole and uses the other hand, fingers still somewhat wet from both their mouths, to probe around it.

He’s still loose and slick from their afternoon romp in the field, and Dean bets he could just shove right on in and start fucking like a continuation of earlier when he pounded Sam into a patch of flowers. Sam pulls out the three fingers he had quickly buried in himself and backs his ass up until he’s practically pressed against Dean’s dick. Slender fingers fan out over the swell of his bottom, grabs a handful, and spreads himself rights in Dean’s lap, making a display out of his stretched out hole.

“Ready?” Sam asks coquettishly, flirty smile matching his tone. He reaches a hand back, gently guides Dean to slot between his cheeks, and begins to ride his dick with his hole.

Dean moans, feeling his cock catch against the slippery rim of Sam’s ass, but no matter how good this feels, Dean wants more. He’s just about to shove up on to his knees and slam into Sam when Sam hitches his hips, fits his hole over the crown of his dick, and let’s his ass devour all of Dean in one fell swoop.

Sam doesn’t give Dean time to react, just starts to circle his hips at a rapid pace. A weak grumble escapes Dean’s throat as he’s treated to the sight of Sam’s ass stretched around his dick and perky, round cheeks rippling every time they bounce against his thighs. This is a show Dean could watch all the time, the only porn he would ever need again. But Sam’s hands are moving, doing something in front him that makes his head roll back, and Dean’s all of a sudden so curious. Sam lets out a sound, the same kind he makes when his nipples are toyed with, and suddenly, Dean really needs to see that too. If only he had those mirrors from the motel again, he could get such a good look of what Sam looks like from the front as well as keep his eyes on that incredible backside.

Despite the amazing views, the actual fucking is a little too rough and choppy and lacks enough stimulation for Dean to reach the tipping point of climax. It’s just enough to spur on the occasional zing of pleasure and keep him on a nice, even keel of arousal. But Dean’s alright with that; he knows that right now is for Sam.

It’s only once in a blue moon that Sam reaches this level of arousal, where he’s so turned on that all he cares about is getting off. He just takes and takes with little regard to anything but his own pleasure, like he’s just using Dean as a sex toy. Truthfully, Dean loves it when Sam’s like this, just so horny and needy, mindlessly seeking pleasure and the only thing he can think about is getting fucked real good. It doesn’t matter if his own release is momentarily neglected because sure, having orgasms is nice, but giving Sam orgasms, all this right now, how Sam is acting, is all the pleasure he needs.  

He lets Sam continue to restlessly grind in his lap for a little while longer. Only when Sam’s movements become a little too wild and his noises take on a tinge of frustration does he decide it’s time for him to help out.

Dean grabs on to Sam’s hips, stopping his movements. “Need some help, baby?”

Sam squirms, trying to move and get some friction again, only stopping when he realizes Dean’s got an iron grip and a resolve to not let him move that’s just as strong. He leans back and desperately pleads, “Please, gotta come. Need to come.”

With those magic words, Dean wraps his hands around the backs of Sam’s knees and lifts him up until his knees are pinned to his chest, nothing anchoring him but Dean’s dick in his ass. Dean angles his hips, making sure to get that perfect angle that’ll allow him hit that spot that makes his little brother see stars. On the first few thrusts, he starts out slow, but it’s not long before his hips start to jackhammer, pounding away at Sam’s hole and ruthlessly slamming into his prostate everytime. Sam whines and keens, scrabbling as he’s unable to ground the pleasure that’s consuming him.

When Sam starts blabbering incoherently, Dean can’t help but get mouthy. “God, I love you like this, sweetheart. So needy, taking what you want. Got one taste of it and can’t get enough. Told you we needed to go on this trip.”

Sam wails and scrambles to get a hand around himself, but before he can get close, Dean growls. Sam quickly retracts his hand and overlays them on Dean’s instead because he knows that he’s coming on his cock and just his cock.

“It’s like a switch turned on with you. Fucked you once, reminded you how good this feels, and you just can’t get enough, can you? Now you’re acting so slutty, been wanting me, practically begging me every minute of every day to fuck you. Ever since we got out here, you’ve been on me nonstop. What are we gonna do when we get back, hmm, Sammy? When you can’t get on my dick? You gonna miss it? How are we gonna get you and your slutty ass the fucking it needs?”

All the little noises Sam’s making suddenly choke off somewhere near the end of Dean’s dirty talk. Fingers dig into his, and Sam’s ass clamps down around him. Sam’s coming, and Dean only picks up the pace, pushing and pushing until he has Sam catapulting over the edge of pleasure. Sam sobs through his release, shaking against Dean, cock jumping and spurting all over chest and up to his chin.

Once Dean’s sure Sam can’t come anymore, he kisses the back of Sam’s neck and gently lowers his legs back to the ground. Without Dean holding him up, Sam slumps against him, and Dean wonders if he actually fucked Sam so well he passed out. But Sam stirs a few seconds later and twists to look at Dean. His eyes are wet, and Dean’s about to panic, but before he can, Sam gives him a watery smile.

“Gotta let you come now, huh?”

Dean throws back an easy smirk. “Yeah, I’d appreciate it.”

Sam pulls off, swaying a bit as he turns, and settles back on Dean’s lap. He pushes on Dean’s shoulders until he’s flat on his back. There’s a dazzling smile on his face as he reaches behind himself and guides Dean back into his hole. On instinct, Dean’s hands come up to rest on Sam’s hip to steady him.

Sam leisurely raises up and down, and the way his ass is snug around him, clinging to him so, so sweetly, is nothing short of perfection. But no matter how good it is, it’s temporarily pushed to the side, pleasantly cascading over him like a Zeppelin song playing in the background during a long drive, as he gets distracted at how stunning Sam looks. The flickering light of the campfire warmly illuminates his features and he looks almost otherworldly in his beauty with his flushed, blissed out face that stands out in contrast to the backdrop of a million twinkling stars.

Dean must have such a goofy look on his face because Sam asks, “That feel good, baby?”

“Always.”

Sam beams at him before planting his feet astride Dean’s sides and starts bouncing like crazy. He expertly works his hips; quick shallow thrusts that does wonders massaging his dick where it’s sensitive, clenching around him in a rhythm that’s just oh so good, and pulling out all sorts of tried and true tricks that brings Dean right to the precipice in no time.

It’s crazy that he hasn’t come yet because he really, really wants to, feels like he’s about to absolutely explode at any second. He’s not sure what’s exactly holding him back, but he doesn’t have to wonder long as Sam slides a hand under his shirt and gently scratches at a nipple. He slips out of Sam right as he comes, causing him to paint Sam’s ass with creamy white stripes. Sam quickly reaches back and fits Dean right back into his hole. He then leans over and kisses Dean through the rest of his orgasm.

Once Dean’s finally out of his post-orgasm haze and desperately needs to breathe, he angles his head away from Sam and pants, “That was awesome, Sammy.”

Sam smiles down at him, then proceeds to stretch out over Dean. And damn, he’s one big and heavy little brother. He’s making it a little hard for Dean to breathe, especially since he’s still recovering, but he doesn’t really mind. It’s actually really nice to have Sam all curled up and cuddled to him like he doesn’t realize it’s been a long while since he’s been smaller than him. Dean’s going to appreciate it for as long as he can, so he hugs Sam tighter and presses a kiss to his hair.

The temperature has dropped significantly since the sun’s gone down, and Sam, still very butt-ass naked, has completely cooled off from his exertions, and patches of goosebumps begin to rise underneath Dean’s fingers. Dean reaches over to where Sam had shed his clothes, picks up his jacket, and drapes it over his shoulders. Sam tries to huddle his giant form underneath, and Dean tries to warm him up by quickly rubbing up and down his arms and back.

Sam contentedly sighs, and this right here is Dean’s heaven: being with Sam, both of them at peace and happy. If he could, he’d live in this moment forever. Plus the wide array of stars shining up above them and creating such a stunning show is just frosting on top of the cake. He lies there for quite some time petting Sam’s back and just watching the stars. Three stars in a line shine brighter than the rest, and Dean instantly recognizes it as Sam’s favorite.

“Look, there’s Orion.”

Sam turns in his arms and lies against Dean’s side. His eyes search the sky and he hums in acknowledgment when he spots it.

Dean turns his attention to Sam and presses his fingertips into the soft skin of his shoulder, mapping out the constellation of little moles found there. “Maybe we’ll get put into the stars. We’re pretty good hunters.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. We killed Zeus,” Sam says, fitting his head against Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s eyes linger on Sam for a handful of seconds, in awe of how much more bright the stars look reflected in his eyes. Sam glances up at Dean, and broken out of his trance, Dean smiles back.

“Yeah,” Dean snorts. He rests his head against Sam’s and goes back to watch the stars in comfortable silence.


	6. Chapter 6

**Day 6**

* * *

  

It’s way past noon on their last full day of vacation and Dean’s kind of amazed he hasn’t touched Sam once today, even with Sam looking absolutely provocative dressed in nothing but that camo jacket he had stolen off some hunter in Apocalypse World. They haven’t really bothered getting dressed after their last round, most of their clothes soiled and dirty. Normally, Sam’s ass hanging out, long, tan legs running for miles, and an always on view peek of his chest, abs, and dick would be enough to have Dean instantly hard. He can’t remember the last time he and Sam had been naked around each other for this long without one of them jumping the other’s bones.

But truth be told, Dean’s kind of fucked out, a little sore, and he’s not even totally sure he can get it up anytime soon. And from the way he’s limping about, Sam must be too. Although he’ll probably regret thinking this later, he’s probably had enough sex in the last week to not need to go again for the next month or two. And if not, they’ve made plenty of memories to fill up his spank bank for the next few years.

There was the time Sam pulled him behind a boulder right off the trail and gave his ass up right as other hikers passed by. The time he dropped to his knees for Sam on the summit to celebrate completing a long and arduous hike up the mountain. The time they spent all afternoon playing strip poker and when clothes ran out, bet sexual favors. Or maybe Dean’s candidate for absolute hottest, when Sam rose out of the spring naked like something out of an Arthurian legend and just pushed Dean down and had his way with him.

Sexually, Dean’s feeling rather fulfilled. But sweet, little intimate moments where he can just be close with Sam, place a hand on him in any way and let their love channel through each other, he’ll never be able to get enough of those, especially now that they’re so rare and only found in stolen moments in the dark parts of the bunker. So in absence of a sex filled day, Dean’s gonna spend his time stockpiling away all of Sam’s affection to remember when he’s alone in bed wishing Sam was right there with him.

Dean puts away the freshly cleaned pan and makes his way into the tent. He draws up close to Sam’s side, throws a cursory look at what book he’s reading, and then nuzzles up to his ear.

“You wanna cuddle?”

Sam snorts as he flips a page. “Since when do you ask to cuddle?”

“Fine, bitch. Go on being a nerd,” Dean huffs, lying back against the sleeping bags by himself.

Sam chuckles as he bookmarks the page he’s on. After putting his book down, he lies down as well, gathering Dean into his arms.

“You wanna cuddle, jerk? Let’s cuddle.”

 

 

**Day 7**

* * *

 

With the last of the camp gear packed away, Dean sweeps his gaze over the campground one last time, looking for anything that they may have forgotten. He can’t believe the week’s up already.

They make their way back to Baby and stow their gear in the trunk and their duffels in the backseat. Dean’s just shoved Sam’s duffel in next to his and closed the door; he rests his hands on the sill of the open window and mentally checks off his packing list. He’s about three-fourths of the way done when a pair of strong hands grabs at his hips and pulls him back. At the same time, the warmth of Sam’s body heat drapes across his back and holds him in his place until he’s bent over with his hands still on Baby’s side door. He’s about to ask Sam what he’s doing, but Sam flicks the button of his jeans undone and whispers in his ear, “One more for the road?”

Dean moans his consent, and in one quick move, Sam has his jeans undone and around his ankles along with his shorts. He hears the clink of Sam undoing his belt and the zipper being pulled down, and it’s all some sort of auditory aphrodisiac as his cock begins to thicken where it hangs between his legs and he tries to widen his stance within the confines of his pants.

Sam parts his cheeks and thumbs at his hole. Dean knows that he’s still pretty open from the week of fucking but not enough for Sam to just effortlessly slide in.

“Want some prep?”

Dean considers it, seeing as how easy it would be to just reach his hand through the open window and take the lube out of their bags, but he eventually decides against it. He gives Sam a confident _Nah_ and pushes his ass back towards Sam as a sign of how sure he is.

Sam chuckles behind him, and Dean readies himself for Sam’s dick, but instead of feeling the sting of penetration, something smacks against his hole.

“Dude, you gotta relax,” Sam admonishes, slapping his dick against his entrance again.

“I am relaxed,” Dean says, voice quaking as Sam thumps his dick against his hole a couple more times. “Can you just—” Sam circles the puckered rim of his hole with the head of his cock, and Dean quiets as he concentrates on following Sam’s dick with his ass, trying to get it in him.

Sam eventually pushes in, nothing but some spit and the wetness of his precum slicking the way. He’s tight, oh so tight, and it stretches and burns, and it’s just what Dean wants. He wants Sam to fill him up and fuck him roughly so that he’ll feel the ache all the way home and for the days to come when they’re back home and he has to do without his brother’s touch.

With a hiss, Dean starts to move his hips without waiting to adjust. Sam begins to move along with him, pulling out and slamming back in quickly. It’s a fast and hard fuck, and the force of it all even has Baby rocking back and forth with them. The grip Sam has on his hips is fierce and unyielding and is the perfect compliment to the way Sam’s ruthlessly ramming into him. He knows that there’s going to be deep, dark bruises on his hip and his ass is going to be so sore, but he can’t help but savor in the knowledge that he’s definitely going to be feeling Sam afterwards.

Dean’s legs start to tremble, and he rests his forehead down on the window sill. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block out the world and focus solely on the feeling of Sam moving in him. The feeling of Sam filling him up over and over again, pushing against every little piece of him, is getting to be too much and he’s about to reach for his cock, but like so many other times in their lives, Sam anticipates him and has him in hand before Dean can even lift a finger.

Sam lays his chest against Dean’s back and begins to pant all sorts of incoherent dirty words into his ear. At the same time, he’s also stripping his cock at a rhythm so fast that it nearly matches the punishing pace his hips are moving. It only takes a few strokes and Sam whining and growling things like _Come on, Dean. Give it to me, please_ for Dean to lose it.

Dean’s body tightens, clamping down so hard around Sam that his hips falter. But Dean doesn’t really notice, too busy being jerked off onto the ground. He pushes Sam’s hand away from his cock once the pleasure starts to turn into pain and sags against the car door as he tries to get his heartbeat back to a normal resting heart rate. He lets Sam hold up his bottom half as he continues to use his ass to chase after his own orgasm.

Sam gets a few more thrusts in before he pulls out with a moan and jacks his cock, aiming it at the ground to let his cum mingle with Dean’s in the dirt. Dean pulls his jeans up, turns around, and leans his back against Baby’s door, waiting for his legs to stop shaking. He stares at their combined cum on the ground and can’t help but think it’s kind of erotic and that he’s glad half of that didn’t end up in him—long car rides with cum leaking out of your ass is not fun, Dean knows from experience.   

Dean hears Sam doing up his pants, and he guesses that means it’s time to go. He braces a hand on Baby to push himself off, but he doesn’t even get an inch off of her before Sam’s leaning into him and placing a kiss on his lips. They kiss slow and unhurried, an exact opposite of the horse race their fucking just was. It’s sweet and syrupy like honey, and as Dean sucks on Sam’s tongue, Sam let out a happy, little sound like he’s decided that he’ll be more than glad to never stop kissing him.

But eventually they do stop, and Sam pulls away just enough to murmur, “I love you.”

“Love you too, Sammy,” Dean whispers back into Sam’s lips.

They trade a few more kisses, a bittersweet feeling as they reluctantly pull apart. Dean fists a hand in the fabric around Sam’s waist, not yet able to let go. Sam strokes over his wrist, understanding, but eventually, his petting turns into a gentle squeeze and he takes a small step back, signaling that they need to get going.

“Glad I convinced you to come camping?”

“Yeah. You should’ve asked me to come sooner.” Dean jokes.

Sam playfully scoffs, slapping a hand down on Baby’s roof in a movement that translates as a sarcastic _W_ _hy didn’t I think of that earlier_. He’s about to smile, Dean can see it from the way the area around Sam’s eyes start to crinkle. But before he can, Sam freezes.

“Damn it, I forgot to get Jack his souvenir. He’s gonna wanna know what happened.”

Dean shrugs, walking over to the driver’s side. “Just tell him 'what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.'”

Sam laughs as they both climb into Baby.

“Ready?” Dean asks, slotting the key into the ignition.

Sam smiles, laying his arm over the back of the seat, fingers brushing Dean’s shoulder. “Yeah, let’s go home.”


End file.
